Death Day From Our Eyes
by HeionA
Summary: Matt and Mello's Death Day, through their eyes, as well as Linda's and Near's. Rated K For Language
1. Matt's POV

**Matt's Last Thoughts**

* * *

I know I'm going to die.  
I've felt it for months. I knew that I was going to die, and as I'm speeding down this road, trying to escape the Japanese police, it's confirmed. So many things race through my head, all the things I never did, all the things I never saw. All the things that happened to me, all the people I loved and wanted to save. Mello.  
Mihael.  
It had been tears since I connected that name with your face. You were my muse, my Delilah, my everything. You have no idea how beautiful you really are. I wish I could have saved you. I wish I could've made you smile. But most of all, I wish more than anything, that I could've said no to you. If I had said no to you, I wouldn't have as many scars...If I could've refused you, I wouldn't be gunning this car, reaching 120 mph on a city street. But if I had said no to you.....would you be in this car, minutes away from your death? Could I honestly say that I'd want that for you?

* * *

No.  
I couldn't.

* * *

They have me surrounded. I have nowhere to go....please, can't you help me? I don't wanna die, Mells...I don't want to. I want to go home and collapse on the couch. I wanna lay there and do nothing, and have you come home and scream at me for being lazy and worthless. I want you to pull me up off the couch like you're gonna hit me again, but kiss me instead. I want to hear you call my name in the middle of the night, I want to see you smirk at me again. I want to hear you keep your voice low like I can't hear you as you pray on your rosary. I don't want to die. I don't want to leave you.  
I can't keep this up. I take a deep drag of my cigarette, knowing that I may never get to smoke another. "Come on, you can put those down now. I'm sure you have plenty of questions for me..." I say, trying to sweet talk my way out of this. I had always been able to before.

* * *

CRACK

* * *

They're all shooting now, I feel like someone is pulling me apart, fiber by fiber. I can't even scream. I can't breathe. All I can do is think of you... of all our happy moments, of your beautiful ocean blue eyes and that golden hair and the sweet smell of chocolate and leather. I take one last drag of my cigarette, knowing that this was my last breath.

I loved you, ya know?

I want you to know.

I hope you know.  
Do you know?  
Mello....

* * *

**Moar Moar Angst, right? **


	2. Mello's POV

Dammit.

Why did this happen? Why am I sitting here, driving a cargo truck, staring at this tiny portable TV while you lay dying on the ground? Why the fuck aren't I there next to you, where I belong? Why the hell did you stop? Are you stupid? Did you have a death wish? I can't tell you how bad my heart is hurting right now. I can't describe the tatoo it's slamming on my chest, how it is slowly choking me. I slam my fists against the steering wheel, screaming at it and swerving dangerously all over the highway.

* * *

Mattie, my Mattie.

Mail.

You and your damn smile, that stupid shy half smile that made my heart melt. You and your damn beautiful soulful eyes, green eyes that made me want to throw you out in traffic, but then kill myself saving you. I could've saved you. I should've saved you. God fucking damn it. Nothing can accurately described the icy feeling in my stomach when I saw you get out of that car, why the hell didn't you stay in there, you fucking fool? You looked so sure, like they were seriously going to let you go. Haven't you been fucked up enough times to know that never happens? I never wanted you to die, I never thought you would.  
I thought we were special, invincible. I thought we could do anything, just you and me, just us against this fucking world. I fucking love you. I want to go back to the days I came home to find you lazing around our tiny apartment, so blissfully unaware of anything but getting to the next level of your game. I want to be able to reach over while we're watching a movie and pull you close to me, I want to grab that chin of yours and crush my mouth against yours, to have the feeling that I could never get enough of your taste, the taste of cheap liquor and cigarretes, to feel your body melt against mine. I want to lay in bed with you at night and listen to you breathe, watch you sleep. I want to see that shy little smile you save just for me when I'm undressing you, that sweet look as though it was the first time all over again. I don't want to be alone, Matt! I don't want to be without you! I fucking need you to breathe, to speak, to function!

* * *

My heart is seizing up in my chest...that bitch in the back had a piece of the note. But, my final thoughts don't dwell on her, they dwell on you.

I fucking love you, Mail Jeevas.

I fucking loved you from the day I met you.

Matt....


	3. Linda's POV

"Who is that?"

"That's the girl that used to hang out with Mello and Matt, Lisa, maybe?" the children whispered behind her back.

"What about Linda? She has never done well without Matt and Mello..." Rodger whispered as though she couldn't hear.

She knew that up until now, she had been cloaked by Mello, Matt, and Near, that now, she was exposed because her friends had left. Near left to look for Kira, Mello left to beat Near at looking for Kira, and Matt had left to look for Mello. Leaving Linda all alone. Linda loved solitude, but solitude was not the same as being alone. Solitude had the sweetness that if you wanted, you could always leave it and join those who loved you.

Now, she had no one.

She dipped her paintbrush into the jar of red, making large, bold strokes across the page. She next attacked the purple, making smaller, softer strokes, intermingled with the red. She made a bold, straight streak of white down the center of the paper, and softly asked herself, "What about Linda?"

Purple was her favorite color. It wasn't just a noun or an adjective but it was also a verb- when she looked at it, it looked back and spoke to her. It was gentle yet loud, meek yet regal.

Red was also her favorite color, it's boldness and anger speaking to her in a gutteral, primative way.

White also held a fondness in her heart, though it was cold and unfeeling at times, it was pure and loving as well.

She dipped her brush for a final time in the green paint, making large swirls intertwines with the other three. It looked like one huge beautiful flower, one fucked up but beautiful flower.

She grinned, dipping her slender fingertips in the paint, drawing long, thin streaks down her cheeks, tears of purple and red and green and white mixing and meshing with the salt of her tears.

"What about Linda?"

She looked over at her bed, longing to see Matt cuddled up in her blankets with his gameboy, or Mello sprawled out with a book, giving her a halfhearted scolding about how she should study more. She sighed, reaching out and touching the soft down of the small bear that Near had given to her as a gift. She pressed her face into the belly of the plushie, letting out a loud wail.

"What about them?"

* * *

She picked up the canisters of paint, putting them on a rolling cart and walking down the hall. She stopped in the middle, and threw her arms out, letting the cold light from the windows wash over her face.

She picked up the red can, and in one fluid motion, she flung the red paint all over the hall, her tears flying and her mouth crying out, "Mihael!! Mihael!!" She slapped her palms in the paint that splattered the floor, slamming her hands on the surrounding walls, crying his name over and over again. The other members of the house came out and stared, wondering why the only second generation L backup who had never left was crying and yelling and flinging paint.

She picked up the next can, throwing the paint straight up out of it and creating a purple rain. She smeared her hands along the walls, wailing, "Mail, Mail, I remeber you! I know who you are, Mail!" She looked like a gory pulpy mess, her body streaked with purple and red, her face a shocking mix of green, red, purple, and white.

She plunged her hands into the white, making large hand prints on the walls, and scrawled in crude lettering, "Avenge Them, Nate."

She finally grabbed the last bucket, the green paint, and poured it behind her as she walked down the hall, towards the doors and towards the real world. She stopped at the end, turning and raising her hand.

"Mihael and Mail! Do not ever forget those names! The names of the two men in this house who truely died for justice!" Then, she was gone.

* * *

There is still considerable talk of the girl who went insane after Mihael and Mail died. Funny, they remeber their names, but not the name of the girl who screamed them.


End file.
